"The Rain of Love"

In so many ways, I wish I had brought my camera to our Growing Colorado Kids “free day” today.
Growing Colorado Kids is a nonprofit started by my friend Denise with the goal to allow refugee children and adolescents to continue ideas of sustenance and food that originated in their cultures back home. The children that are in the program have been displaced by international conflict, have resettled in Colorado, and this is one way they can contribute to their community while also growing and gardening—a piece of their lives that they are able to bring to their new home in America.
GCK is sponsored by several homeowners, and each Saturday, the kids divide into groups and go to houses around Denver to work on the gardens they have started. It so happened that because the gardens are looking so good this summer, this week was a free day! We loaded up all the kids (ages 6-16; from places all over Africa and now Burma) into about 4 different cars and headed to City Park. We picked a spot under a couple of gorgeous trees which happened to be adjacent to the mammoth worship experience a local Denver church was putting on for the 4th of July weekend. Baptisms included. A woman approached us to invite us to their free food of hotdogs and chips, but with a good portion of the kids being practicing Muslims we just said our “thanks” but “no, thanks.”
One of the volunteers, Patty, talked about nutrition for a bit, teaching the kids about 5-2-1-0 (5 fruits/vegetables a day, 2 hours or less of “screen time”, at least 1 hour a day of movement, and 0 sugary drinks).
After the kids drew on a plastic plate what they ate for breakfast (or did not eat), we raced, leaped, and soared into the spouting water fountain at City Park.
As I twirled a young girl around in the shooting water, I realized how amazing it would have been to have my camera with me today.
The look on her face was priceless, especially after she said, “I haven’t had this much fun since last summer when we came here.”
The shots would have been beautiful.
Yet, the best thing was that I was in the moment, not worried about much else. I felt happiness inside myself and all around me. Another young girl must have felt the same thing when she told me that we were dancing in “the rain of love.”
I didn’t need the photos today.
Mostly, I just needed today.
Check out Growing Colorado here:
http://www.9news.com/news/local/story.aspx?storyid=148292&catid=222
http://www.growingcolorado.org/

“She’s my girl”

A roomful of the aged, white hair, men, women, wheelchairs, nurses, canes, and a clear scent of sanitation supplies as well as urine. For many, this is called growing old.

For starters, the people who work with older seniors, especially ones who just have small amounts of time left—kudos. It's inspiring. It's good work. But, can you imagine the difficulty? Every. Single. Day. ?

Renee, a woman I met the other day, takes care of Grandma. She told me about Grandma Jenny, "she's my girl."

I said, "thanks." How could I ever say enough? She's nursing my dying grandmother.

I'm 22. Should I really be thinking about the pains (and the good parts too) of growing old?

But as I drove away from the Cherry Creek Nursing Facility, I wondered about such things. Not solely about me—but anybody.

For people who can afford nursing assistance and those who cannot.

For Americans but also for people around the world.

Maybe how we see getting old, getting sick and how we respond says more about us than we would like. But maybe not.

Who wants it to be like this?

Who wants to think about the vibrant person they love to be confined to a bed—unmoving, unable to talk. How alone she must feel.

I know the staff there does what they can. I admire but also deeply appreciate that.

So when I see her, I do the best I can too, knowing it isn't long now. Goodbyes are deeply difficult and this will be even more so.

But slowly, a greater peace is making way in my heart.

I pray it's finding Grandma Jenny's heart too.

Love Liberates

I drove to Overland High School over a week ago to begin my tutoring/teaching/getting more Peace Corps volunteer hours.

I don't quite recall the day that I started, but whatever day it was—maybe a Wednesday?—I distinctly remember waking up on edge. Not in an angry sort of way, but in that feeling of a deep sadness. It's like there is this pang of hurt in your stomach, and despite all sorts of things, you just can't find the cure.

As I made the car trip over to meet and work with the students who are learning English as a second language at OHS, I had to take several (okay, many) deep breathes. More than anything, I had to stop crying. The last thing these students needed to see was a recent college graduate singing the post-grad blues. I mean, let's be real. I told myself everything was okay. The truth is I genuinely knew it was okay. However, the tears just kept coming.

What was wrong with me?

Why can't I shake this feeling?

More than anything, the previous few weeks were catching up with me:

Graduation…moving…coming home….a hell of a lot of change.

I was sad and felt very much alone.

I gathered myself and entered the high school. I checked in somewhat nervously and found my dad in his classroom so he could show me where I would be working. We walked upstairs briskly as he left his highly rambunctious freshman geography class unattended. We walked by lockers, through rowdy students, and finally made our way into a small, colorfully decorated classroom. It was like I transported back in time; high school? This place…it be crazy. In the classroom, a group of about 14 high schoolers looked up and greeted me even before I said anything. Once I did, and I told them I was Mr. Newell's daughter, they laughed. They put me at ease and felt comfortable.

The very first activity I led was a discussion in small groups about what students wanted to keep from their cultures and simultaneously, what they wanted to adapt to in America. PERFECT. Giko, a young woman originally from Liberia, told me that she wanted to keep the traditional African clothing. She beamed when telling me it made her feel proud; it made her "feel African" and she liked that. As for America, she wants to get a "good American education." I beamed right back at her; those three words—her search for an education—found my ears at the most opportune time. It reminded me exactly why I want to do what I want to do with my life. It's funny how I constantly need these reminders. Yet, they always speak to me in important ways—I firmly believe it's one of God's ways of keeping us in tune with the direction of our life. When I told them I had just graduated college, they clapped. That was just….really nice.

Giko had more and more questions—about college, about Ghana, about the Peace Corps. Her persistence and eagerness were unmistakable. In her, I saw a little of me—hopeful energy to try and make the world a better place, even if it's just for a moment, for just one person.

I loved our time together. I loved sharing with her, and her sharing right back.

God brings us people and moments and opportunities to sustain us. Maybe my tears have been tears of not only sadness to say goodbye, but also out of fear. Fear, that in this moment of change, I have nothing to hold onto. I don't know where I'm going. Literally and figuratively. And the people I tell everything to….well, they are all over the United States. Yet, in this time with Giko, I found a piece of enlightenment. It's us that are responsible for finding what's here for us. Certainly, this is a season of change. It hurts. It's so hard. And I will probably cry more. Let's be real. But, I think that's okay. Change is happening right before my eyes and that's never easy. But, I am in this moment, this phase of my life, taking the reins all by myself. That's terrifying. However, it's an opportunity to realize just how strong I am on my own. I doubt this frequently. In the very same experience though, I can realize that no one person is strong enough to survive this world alone. Goodbyes did not take away those relationships—they can still grow. Stronger, even. I have people here I can rely on; I have people across the country; I can find strength in myself; and through all of this, there is God.

You can never be prepared enough for the way in which life changes…and in turn, the way in which we ourselves might change.

Love is certainly strong though, and going through all of this, it just seems that love will make it all okay.

God keeps showing me that. I'm starting to believe Him.

"I am grateful to have been loved and to be loved now and to be able to love, because that liberates. Love liberates. It doesn't just hold—that's ego. Love liberates. It doesn't bind. Love says, "I love you. I love you if you're in China. I love you if you're across town. I love you if you're in Harlem. I love you. I would like to be near you. I'd like to have your arms around me. I'd like to hear your voice in my ear. But, that's not possible now, so I love you. Go." –Dr. Maya Angelou

Live. Your. Best. Lifeeeeee

I feel that this simple statement truly encompasses my very being.
I will try to live by it's implications every day of my life.
Pure. Beauty and love.

20 things I know for sure

I've attended a fine institution for the past 4 years. I've been challenged, perplexed, confused, intrigued, bored, lazy, excited, happy, tired, enthralled, but always grateful.

How can you just not love this place?

For 4 years now, I've taken classes here in the pursuit of some sense of knowledge, with an important piece of paper waiting at the end of all of this.

I'll get the paper soon, I'll throw up my graduation cap, but everything else that comes with 4 years at Hendrix—I'll take all of that with me. Just like everyone else. Each Hendrix grad will have their own stories and memories to share, many overlapping, and the experiences we had here are somehow a part of us now.

While I don't know everything after 4 years of liberal arts education (let's be real…I'm nowhere close, nor will I ever be) but I can say that I am walking away with some sense of things that I believe in, things that I at this point in my life know to be true.

As I prepare to leave, pack, and say goodbye, I have been reflecting on things that I know for sure. These are often fluid, they might change next month, next year, and another big stage in my life. A lot of them though, I have learnt through experiences, or I have believed for a long time anyway.

As I finish my college education I know this for sure:

1. Having a meal plan senior year is worth the extra money. Eating with people is one of the best ways to get to know them, to share stories, and to enjoy their company.
   
2. You can sometimes get to the same place by both slacking off or working extremely hard. Working hard always feels so much better.
   
3. Black coffee really isn't that good.
   
4. You should love yourself and be comfortable with who you are, but it's incredibly important to be open to change.
   
5. Road trips are good for the soul.
   
6. A good friend is a loyal friend.
   
7. No matter what you do with your life, always search for what makes you happy, and what makes other people happy too.
   
8. If you laugh at yourself and then let other people laugh along with you, it's their way of saying I love you.
   
9. You will never understand time.
   
10. Similarly, you will never understand the fullness, love, and strength of God. Accept this, but don't stop trying.
    
11. Trying new things will do one of two things: one, it will reaffirm what you like or love, or two, it will bring you to something new that you can also enjoy. It's a win-win situation.
    
12. Being a good Christian isn't about the right clothes, keychains, or even words. The most important part of being a Christian, I think, is what you know to be true in your heart, and the outward expression of those feelings and beliefs.
    
13. Goodbyes are difficult. Whether it's for an extended amount of time or for good, it always hurts to say goodbye to people you care about.
    
14. If more people had Southern hospitality, people might be happier.
    
15. It's better to invest into one thing that you love than to have too many commitments that you don't enjoy nearly as much.
    
16. Burning bridges is usually not a good idea.
    
17. You are in no way bound to every belief that your family has. That's perfectly okay, too. Love where you come from, but know there is plenty of freedom to grow from that, be yourself, and still recognize the values and beliefs of your family.
    
18. Hugging people you love is a beautiful way of showing how you feel.
    
19. You can be a morning person and a night person. Just prepare to be tired. And drink lots of coffee.
    
20. Gratitude is a really wonderful quality about people.
    

 

so much for routines

Today was a really good day.

I woke up a little late this morning (I accidently snoozed my alarm) but I made it to work right on time. I delivered the mail to Charlotte, made small-talk about crazy thesis times, and headed to the SLTC for lunch. On my way there, I managed to see about 10 different campus walks, all of the pecan court tables filled with people reading, chatting, and listening to music, and I saw people lying out in the sun. At lunch, I mixed it up a bit and got something off the main menu—Italian sausage and Penne—and also decided to finish off my meal with chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. It was Sundae Thursday after all. We chatted about the school budget, senate, and of course the ever popular topic of what's coming up next in our lives.

After lunch, Jordana and I went to our human rights class. We met in small groups before lecture with people who have similar paper topics, and it was refreshing to hear what everyone was doing with their papers. Our group was placed together because our topics have some common thematic element of social movements. We had a good laugh in trying to figure out exactly why we were all together though, because I and two other of my group members are writing something about education. Another girl in our group is doing Liberation Theology, so trying to figure out exactly how that fit in was rather entertaining. Dr. Goldberg swung by and explained why were placed together, and as she did so, I couldn't help but realize that it is so refreshing to be in a class with a professor who seems to really enjoy what they are doing. I've had some rather, um, you know, interesting professors throughout my college career, and so the real good ones, especially this late in the game (second semester senior year!) are so appreciated. After class I was scheduled to have an independent study meeting with Dr. Skok, but for the third week in a row, she canceled. I suppose I can't complain, as I managed to get extra work done and have a break until Dream Group. Dream Group was a good one today—both Ali and I shared dreams—and I love being able to hear what people are dreaming about, how this intertwines with what is going on in their lives, and sharing ideas with others about what their dreams could mean. It's a real nice way to get to know somebody. We even joked after our session that on facebook we could write that one of our hobbies is "getting to know people through dreams" because you know…that doesn't sound creepy. At all.

After Dream Group was Senior Fellowship. Seniors voted on the meal—lasagna and mac n cheese—so there were many happy people in the room. It was kind of surreal realizing that this was the last fellowship. Ever. Everything has just moved so fast that when the last of this or the last of that comes upon you, it's kind of hard to actually process. We watched the senior slideshow. As images of Journey of Reconciliation, and other mission trips, and fellowship over the years came up, I couldn't help but cry a little. I mean, I cry a lot anyway, but there is just something about seeing how things have changed, and really how much we have lived here. Today I guess I just had this realization that leaving here is going to be hard in a lot of ways, but the biggest way, I think, will be closing up things here because so much of this has become a second home. I guess I haven't given that much thought, really, everything here is just so natural. After fellowship, I typed up some notes then went to the showing of Party Girl in the library. Really I think everyone needs to see that movie. It might be on the more hilarious things I have seen in awhile—just imagine a fashionista party girl learning how to operate under the Dewey Decimal System.

And so now I am home. While I love reading all about the Civil Rights Movement, I am taking a much needed break and just lounging around, watching the storm, and thinking about what a nice day it was.

I'm pretty sure nobody really cares that much about what I did today. However, in going through what a nice, relatively easy day it was, I am just amazed that in just about a month, this won't be life anymore. There won't be walks around the Pecan Court with my friends, and the Hendrix cafeteria will exists as a legend I will tell people I meet later in life. Birthday cake? Yes. Friday lunch? Yes. Blackberry Crisp every other Tuesday? You better believe it.

I still have month left here, so I'm not trying to get overly nostalgic right now or anything, but it's kind of insane to think about life changes that fast and everything that you are used to (that you love, hate, adore, curse all at the same time) doesn't stay the same.

I think in going through my routine today, I just realized that there isn't a lot of time left. This routine will quickly become a routine of something else. For the next couple of months I kind of know what that will be like since I will be in Aurora, with my family, working a summer job. But beyond that, I really have no idea. Which of course is brilliant, terrifying, and exciting all at the same time.

One month left of college. We made it this far. We are so close to being done. I wouldn't trade this for anything, though. We only have exciting things to come, and though a month will go by fast, there are many, plenty of times to be had, plenty of memories to be made.

“Don’t you know—they’re talking about a revolution”

The same feeling validates everything all over for me each time it comes along.

It's been missing for a little while; I have been privately wondering if everything that I think I am supposed to be doing is a conception in my head, more of a want than a purpose.

This morning it came back like it was never gone, and I'm here in my room in our apartment feeling fulfilled. Satisfied. More than anything, excited.

Maria and I were working through some math problems today and she was really struggling at the beginning. She was getting confused with place values and then putting a large number into expanded notation. I was trying to find an understandable way of explaining the concept, but nothing was really working. And then, it just clicked. She was able to explain to me why something would be rounded a certain way, and how you had to consider each number when figuring out a problem.

I am excited that my life could be (and has been, really) full of moments like this. The best part is, it really is not about me at all. It's about them. It's about sharing the process of the learning, the chance to exchange stories, the ability to just connect and laugh together.

By no means am I a revolutionary.

Just because I like to be around kids and teach them, love them, hold them—all of this doesn't mean I am going to change the inherent problems of the education system in America, the global inaccessibility for many poor children across the globe, or the cruel poverty of places all over the world.

I've been naïve. In many ways I still am. But, I have also learnt a lot in my young life, and I know that changing one life, having an impact on just one individual, this does not equate to large change. Yes, I know that. However, why not try? Why not live your life and try to make just one child happy for a moment? Or maybe teach them something that might stick with them for the course of a week, a year, or their life? To me, that's worth everything. I think in so many ways we can all have this calling. Maybe mine might be on the sports field teaching young girls how to play a sport, but yours could be elsewhere. It could be in the archives, it could be in a clinic, it could be in a classroom, it could be in the office, it could be on Wall Street, it could be right in your own home.

There really isn't a reason not to try.

I have been reading a lot about Mary Bethune for one of my classes this semester. Mary Bethune was a woman full of strength, wit, and absolute determination. She was a teacher and a civil rights activist beginning in the very early years of the 20^th century. She led many organizations to bring together African American women and she believed whole-heartedly in the power of learning. She once said,

"from the first, I made my learning, what little it was, useful every way I could."

Mary Bethune was the daughter of slaves in South Carolina and even as early as the age of 5, she had to work in the fields with her parents. This sparked her to take a strong interest and investment in her own education. She took her own initiative, she learnt to read and write, and turned this around the rest of her life, teaching young girls and boys how to do the same. She is known for a lot of things, but what I admire about her most is her unquestioned willingness to share her knowledge, life, and love to young children who may otherwise not have the chance to grow and learn the way she did.

She had that kind of calling. A lot of people do. Maybe the hardest part is not discovering what you are meant to do, but following through with it.

I am excited about my life. I like saying that. I like truly believing that. Sometimes, I just get stuck in what the next plan is, what makes the most sense, and what situation provides the most security.

That's not me, though. I'm moving forward with where I think I belong, where I just might be called to, and where I can do the best in offering my very best self.

life is wonderful.

The windows are open. It's a nice Saturday afternoon. The BBQ Ribeye is cooking. I just added a great portion to my thesis. I'm barefoot.

A year ago I was traversing treacherously across West Africa. In fact, probably right around this time a year ago, I was likely riding on top of a gas can as we inched closer and closer to Penjari National Park in Benin. Those were crazy times. Those were stressful times. But more than anything, those were very very good times.

I know what I was doing then. I know what I am doing now. But for the first time in a while, I can't tell you what I will be doing a year from now.

I just. don't know.

For the last 9 months, I have focused all of energies into signing up and doing the Peace Corps. It's been the option that I felt most strongly about, it is a chance to do what I really love to do, and I feel confident that I would do a good job. It would be intensely challenging, it would change my life completely. As hard as change is, I think sometimes I live for that—I live for knowing that ultimately we have to adjust, we situate, and we just do the best we can. The Peace Corps would be a great mix of everything I enjoy in life, and so I just assumed it was the logical choice—the perfect choice, even.

I'm a believer in signs. And sometimes, God just gives you signs to point you on the right way.

I don't think God is saying don't go. I don't think that at all. But in the past week, I have been feeling so utterly called to think thoroughly about all my options for the next year, two years, or whatever it may be for my life.

I have been essentially offered a fellowship at the Miller Center at school. Originally, I gave this opportunity about 2 seconds of thought and filed it away far into my email inbox. Except, I didn't realize exactly what it would be like. Assuming it was a job full of filling in the gaps and completing office work, I wanted something more. Come to find out, this fellowship would be all about linking students with services, projects, and volunteer opportunities in the Conway community. It would be assisting Hendrix students to discover their own vocation and calling. And, I would get to help with Fellowship and other religious activities on campus as well. Once I realized what this fellowship actually entails, I couldn't help but slow down and consider the goodness that could come from this. I would have a chance to live on my own and be independent, but I could so in a familiar environment that I do really love. I could have a balance of change and stability, something completely opposite of the Peace Corps. I would be financially secure too, and could save money for one day going to graduate school for social work.

I've made pro-con lists. I've talked it over with my family and friends. I've flip flopped back and forth about 100 times.

The great thing is, I don't lose. With any option here, I am gaining something invaluable and am getting a chance to move forward with my life on my own terms. I feel fortunate to have options like this. My dad has told me time and time again: "a good sign of success is the ability to choose where you want to go in your life. Options are a best-case scenario." Thanks dad.

That's something I realized through this process.

After beginning the process with Peace Corps, I felt very tied to that option. I felt like I had already committed. But, I haven't. And this isn't to say that I am not going to do it. But I feel now that I have a choice. It's my choice, and I like that. Ultimately, it comes down to what I think is best for me. It's scary, hard, and kind of terrifying. But, it's also very freeing. The next years of my life—the rest of my life—can be decided on my own terms. I do a lot of things a lot of times to please people. It's the curse of being a people pleaser, I think. But this time, I'm doing what I want to do. Of course, this changes every single day, but I find a lot of relief in being able to make this decision.

By no means is the decision of the century, but it's an important one.

I have to decide soon. In just about a week. And, I won't even know about Peace Corps officially until July. I have my interview with the Miller Center on the 7^th, and before that, there are some Peace Corps events on campus that I plan on attending. I'm hoping by then things are a little less murky and a lot clearer.

Until then, I am going to also remember that I am still here. I have my friends, I have the last part of senior year, so why not just enjoy it while I have it? Life decisions are intensely difficult, but life is also intensely wonderful, and for this I am grateful.

Ash Wednesday

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday which means the season of lent is upon us.

It's funny, I think, that I opened up The Upper Room today and read:

For 40 years in the desert, God's people were assured they would not go hungry. But they could—and did—grow weary of their monotonous diet of manna. Then, once they crossed the Jordan River into the Promised Land, the manna ceased—no more guaranteed food. God's people had the freedom to fail, but they also had the faith that could help them succeed. Perhaps that's why they marked the crossing of the river by celebrating Passover, eating the unleavened bread.

The truth is I love food.

And, honestly, I think it's great. I don't feel bad that I love food. I don't even care if people think I eat a lot because let's be real, I'm a big eater. I am so incredibly blessed to eat every meal with more than enough, I am very lucky to not go hungry, and I'm humbled that I have as many options as I do. Eating in my life—it's a luxury. I can eat anything I want at anytime. Do you ever actually take a step back and think about that?

The thing is, after weeks and months of eating however I damn well please, eating is just another thing I do. I really would like it to be more.

I want to be mindful and thankful of the food on the plate, where it comes from, and what it is doing for me. To do this, I am going to take only what I need. It's going to be a hard place to judge at times, but if I eat slower, listen to my body, I think I will know when I am sufficiently full. I won't eat just to eat; I will try and stop using food as a way for me to transfer my emotions.

I won't be able to do it alone, getting through the Lent season will take far more than my own discipline and self-control.

It's going to take me relying on God and being honest with Him and myself, something that I will need more and more as life continues down this crazy road.

Here's to 40 days of intentional, mindful, and healthy eating.

You are more

You are more than the choices that you've made.

You are more than the sum of your past mistakes.

You are more than the problems you create.

You've been remade.

"You are More", Tenth Avenue North

I want to hide my imperfections. I want them to stay far away from me, closed and unable to be found by anyone—myself included.

Except, it is where I come up short, where I fail, and where I go wrong that will always be a part of who I am. For every beautiful and good thing about me, all of that stands in greater light because of everything I do that is wrong. I am loved in spite of my flaws.

In the past year of my life—a year that was arguably the best I have ever had—I have spent some small parts of time trying to wish away moments, times, days, and weeks of sadness. Heavy emotions laced with sadness, guilt, regret, and loneliness consume me. I let them. I feel alone. Isolated. And just, so sad.

Today I realized that maybe these dark times come because I am just so busy trying to be perfect. I have a hard time admitting to myself that I can be weak, or that I can mess up, because I worry that if I screw up here or if I feel even a twinge of sadness, I can't be who I am. The Heather that I know I am, I worry that she will fall away.

So when I feel this sadness and I keep it deep inside, I only hurt myself. All I can think to myself is "why?" It's not like I have a led a perfect life. Why didn't I feel this way when my parents divorced? What about when Grandma got sick? Certainly, I felt a deep sadness at those times too…but this kind of sadness. It's different and it's hard to describe. It's not a selfless sadness. It's suffocating. Regardless, I ask these questions, and because I worry about what it all means so much, I feel guilty for even feeling that way in the first place.

I'm so broken sometimes.

I judge others. I work too hard to please everyone. I feel ashamed of my brother. I have questioned everything. I get frustrated that my family has to be so complicated sometimes.

What makes all of this so redemptive is that when these emotions, fears, and anxieties are swept away, then it's just me.

And when that happens, loving life is infinitely easier.

Smiling, laughing, loving, it's just natural in the same way as giving, holding, and caring.

That is me. But, more importantly, it is God.

I'm remade.

I've had my doubts….my questions…but as always, I find myself right back with God—forgiven and just as loved.

Am I worth it? Will the guilt go away?

Yes, and yes. That's the grace of God.